Review: Personal, quirky Atlanta restaurant Nàdair connects diners to the chef

Credit: Kevin Gillespie

Credit: Kevin Gillespie

The restaurant is as personal and quirky as could be, but it gets the most important thing right: The food is phenomenal. Nàdair is open just four nights a week, but Gillespie works every shift and his passion shows on each plate.

The restaurant’s name is based on the Scottish phrase “dòigh nàdair” (pronounced doe nah-dare), which means “the way of nature.” That theme translates into the seasonality and high-quality, farm-to-table ingredients at Nàdair, but it also places many cutting-edge cooking techniques off-limits. You won’t see foams, bubbles or other science experiments on the plate.

Credit: Kevin Gillespie

Credit: Kevin Gillespie

There is some crossover between the two menus. Some dishes benefit from the three-course menu’s larger portion sizes, as in the lamb tenderloin au sauvage, a lamb tartare accented with warm North African flavors. The heavily spiced green chermoula sauce contrasted beautifully with the cool, sanguine flavors of the tender lamb in the full portion, but the tiny tasting menu serving wasn’t enough to allow the subtle tastes to bloom.

However, the tasting menu improved considerably with the next course, an unusual combination of foie gras torchon with a cantaloupe salad and red plum gelee. The refreshingly sweet, crisp fruit provided lovely balance to the luxuriant, creamy richness of the foie gras.

The seafood dishes exclusive to each menu were perhaps the best at the restaurant.

On the three-course menu, the potato-crusted filet of sole was a gorgeous interplay of Old World European elegance and down-home Southern technique.

Credit: Angie Mosier

Credit: Angie Mosier

The tasting menu, meanwhile, had two absolute gems, starting with a smoked Maine lobster dish. The succulent lobster sat atop a bed of wonderfully al dente herb spaetzle and was enrobed in a rich, luscious thermidor sabayon sauce. The lobster was followed by a spectacular grilled scallop paired with peach-glazed pork belly. The sweet scallop was seared perfectly in minutes while the pork belly had taken hours to be steamed, then smoked, then glazed on the grill.

On the three-course menu, the kitchen worked similar miracles on the spice-lacquered Berkshire pork shoulder, which seemed to fall apart at the touch of a fork. Alongside it, a collard green and pork confit dumpling made me wonder how pork can be so delicious in so many different ways.

In areas other than the food, Nàdair only falters slightly. The dining room is spare in an elegant way, but it doesn’t wrap diners in a cocoon of luxury like some might expect. And the service can be a bit inconsistent.

When I tried the tasting menu, the service was nearly perfect, but on a prior visit, we got stuck with a long wait and a less experienced server. Our party had a later reservation time, and the evening was thrown off because other diners weren’t leaving their tables — usually a sign that a restaurant is good, but also a symptom of Nàdair’s isolation. When you finish dinner, there’s nowhere else to go.

Credit: Angie Mosier

Credit: Angie Mosier

That meal suffered some awkward pacing, and there were a few too many interjections from our chatty server, but nothing severe enough to take the shine off an otherwise sparkling evening. The excellence of the food outweighed any minor inconveniences.

At its core, Nàdair is a restaurant for Gillespie more than anyone else. He has health issues, so he said he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to work in a professional kitchen. With that in mind, he has created a truly excellent restaurant where he’s able to execute personally his uncommonly strong vision.

Nàdair might not suit everyone’s taste, but for those who appreciate the auteur’s work, dining there is a true pleasure.

NÀDAIR

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